Intervention
by Elvawen
Summary: Dean goes through with the deal, and Sam just can't handle it. When he decides to bring Dean back, however, there are consequences that he could never have even dreamed of.
1. Sacrifice

Disclaimer: As is with a lot of my stories, some of the ideas for this plot were taken from a Buffy storyline, so that belongs to Joss Whedon. And I don't own the boys.

Author's Note: Not entirely ripped off from Buffy, I promise. Enjoy, and please review!

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He hadn't slept for a single second, all night. But of course, when the hours you have left to live have dwindled down to a mere 26, it's no surprise. Sam was asleep from the moment he'd lain down on the bed, but not Dean. Dean sat up all night, his arms wrapped around his knees, sitting there, just watching his brother.

And now that daybreak had come, he knew what he had to do. Sam was still sleeping soundly. Dean drew in a deep breath and untangled himself from the position he had been sitting in, reaching over to the nightstand where Sam's phone lay. He held down on the Power button for a few seconds, hoping that the sound it made wouldn't wake Sam up. Even the quietest sounds always seem to be louder when you're trying not to make any noise. But Sam still slept, and the phone turned off. Dean's hand moved from the phone to his brother's forehead, where he let it lie for a few seconds.

"Bye, Sammy," he murmured. "Love you, kiddo." It was so much easier to say when he wasn't awake. Dean reached around behind his neck, unclasping the amulet necklace that he always wore. He placed it next to Sam's cell phone, stood up, and silently left the motel room.

Once outside, he pressed his own phone to his ear and dialed Sam's number.

_Hey, this is Sam. I'm not here right now, but if you'll leave a message I'll get back to you. Thanks._

"Hey, Sam. It's, um, Dean. Obviously, yeah." Dean gave a slight chuckle at his own awkwardness. "Well uh, if you're getting this message it means I'm gone, and please don't try to figure out where I am because I honestly don't even know where I'm going myself and I only got like 15 hours left. To live. Yeah." He paused. "So uh, I was going to write you a note but I figured that's pretty lameass and I guess a voicemail is a little more personal, so…I mean, not that I'm big with the personal. But anyway. I'm just calling you to tell you goodbye, and I already said goodbye to you while you were asleep but that doesn't really count. So, um, goodbye, Sammy. I guess this is where I'm supposed to tell you that I want you to live a good life and find a wife or whatever, so yeah. Well, whatever you wanna do. Keep hunting, kill some more demons, or give up on it altogether and go marry someone and have kids. You don't have me or Dad around to argue about it with, so it'll be a bit easier. Whatever you decide to do, just know that uh, you know. And uh, I don't regret anything, by the way. In case you were wondering. If I had to go back and do it all over again I'd still have made the deal, cause you're my pain-in-the-ass little brother that I gotta keep alive." Dean paused again, realizing something. "Well actually if I was able to go back and do it over, I'd probably have not let you die in the first place, right? Yeah. Uh… I'd better end this voicemail because I don't want it to cut me off in the middle of this heartwrenching speech, huh? Just um. I meant to say this before, a lot of times, but I never did. …I really do love you, Sammy. And that's obvious 'cause I wouldn't have sold my soul for just anybody. But I figured I had to clarify it because you'd get all teary if I didn't. Seriously, you gotta learn to pick up on the subtext now and then. You're such a friggin' girl." He had to pause here, to swallow back the tears that threatened to spill over. _Dammit_, he hadn't meant to get all choked up. But that's what this stupid, stupid family did to him. Made him all emotional, so he couldn't think clearly. He took a deep breath and continued, moving on to a lighter subject. "By the way, because I'm such an awesome big brother I'm giving you the Impala, and if you ever get in a crash don't you dare try and fix her yourself, I cringe at the thought of what you might screw up. Bring her to Bobby, he'll help you out. Love you, kid. Bye."

_Beep_. Dean hit the end button, and walked away. Away from the motel, from his baby brother, from his car, from his work, from his entire life. He had no idea where he was headed, but it didn't really matter, all he had to do was walk. There were less than 15 hours left anyway.

And he thought it was over. But when out of sheer habit he turned on his cell phone a few hours later, he hadn't expected to get a voicemail from Sam, too.

"Hey, Dean. So I guess that's it, everything we ever worked for, or loved, or cared about. You don't care anymore? Fine. Call me back if you get this, you fucking jerk."

Dean's heart sank. Sam knew that Dean wouldn't die without making sure that things were all right between the two of them. By pretending he was mad at him, Sam had ensured that Dean would call him back. The kid knew him better than he'd ever know himself. Friggin' manipulative little bastard. He dialed his brother's cell phone number.

"Dean?" came the hopeful voice across the line.

"Yeah, it's me. Got your message. Way to be all nice to your dying brother."

"I had to." Dean could practically hear the grin in his brother's voice, and in picturing Sam's face his heart began to ache. He missed him already.

"I know you did," said Dean. "You're a smart one."

"But then again, wasn't I always?"

"_Are_, Sammy," Dean corrected. "You still are. You're not the one dying in ten hours."

"Yeah, about that. Where are you?"

"Sam…" Dean sighed. "I'll text you where I am a few minutes before my time's up, but not before that. I'm not having you here while I die, and that's that." He expected an argument, an accusation, some form of defiance. But all he heard was a weary sigh.

"I guess there's no arguing with you on this?"

"No, there's not."

"Okay," said Sam.

"Look, man, I'm gonna go now, so…" Dean trailed off uncomfortably, but he could tell Sam understood.

"Bye, Dean. I love you." There was a moment's pause.

"I love you, too." Dean swallowed back the massive lump that had been forming in his throat and hung up the phone.

Ten hours later, he was dead.

Always true to his word, he had in fact texted Sam with his coordinates five minutes before his soul had been taken from him. Sam called Bobby and they both raced to the location. They found him lying flat on his back in the woods, eyes wide open, hands resting on his chest. Sam had cried there for a little while, throwing himself over his brother's body and refusing to let go of him. Bobby understood, though—he always did. Now it was just Sam sitting in the motel room, watching his brother's body as if waiting for him to wake up.

They know Dean Winchester's dead. Those had been Bobby's words to Sam. They know he's dead, and they'll come. A hundred, a thousand at a time. They won't stop until Sam's dead too. And then they'll destroy the Earth.

Sam swallowed, gulped, let a millionth tear fall onto the ground. His brother's body lay in front of him, and although Sam didn't know it, it was an eerie recreation of Dean and Sam after Sam had died.

Sam wasn't even sure how long he had been sitting there for. He had cried for hours, then talked to Dean's dead body, then cried some more. _What am I supposed to do?_ he had asked tearfully. Except there was no answer. There was nothing he could do. Dean was in hell, and there was no way to bring him back.

At least, that's what Bobby would have told him. No way to bring him back, no possible way. But Sam wasn't Dean. He knew full well that there were more ways of bringing a dead person back than just selling your soul. More _risky_ ways, sure, but they might work.

_What's dead should stay dead_. Unless what's dead is Dean Winchester.

Sam allowed a slight smile to creep across his face – he knew what he had to do.


	2. Unpredictable

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Supernatural, and the details of the spell are from Buffy. :)

**Author's Notes:** Second chapter, more to come soon. Enjoy and don't forget to review!

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Chapter 2: **Unpredictable**

Sam hadn't seen Bobby since they'd buried Dean. Sam had refused—_violently_ refused—to torch his corpse, and Bobby saw no point in resisting. Bobby thought it strange that Sam hadn't really cared where they buried Dean, but again, he hadn't argued. Dean was buried out in the woods. The ceremony had been less than, well…ceremonial. They had basically put him into a coffin and thrown him into the ground, Sam had barely even said a word.

"You're not going to say anything?" Bobby had asked.

"No," Sam responded. Bobby shook his head.

"You Winchesters are so friggin' unpredictable," he muttered. Sam wondered if Bobby was aware of just how friggin' unpredictable things were going to get.

Dean had been dead for a week, and Sam had spent that entire week doing research. He had barely slept, barely eaten, but it had paid off. Today was the day.

He had considered the consequences, obviously. Sam was a lot of things, but stupid was not generally one of them. Along with all his fruitless researching of how to get out of the deal for the past year, he had found one thing that separated Dean from other people revived by black magic.That girl Angela, the one who died in the car crash and came back a zombie, had died a normal death. When her friend Neil brought her back, she came back wrong. But Dean, Dean hadn't died a natural death. This wasn't like trying to bring back a car crash or gunshot victim. Dean was killed by mystical energy, which meant that Sam had a shot at bringing him back the way he was.

He reached into his bag, pulling out a large black urn and staring at it. The Urn of Osiris, the last known one of its kind. It had belonged to John; Sam had found it in his storage box in Buffalo. Sam smiled. Everything was perfectly in place, perfectly aligned. He was ready.

That night, Sam knelt in front of Dean's grave. It was a full moon, and the silver light eerily illuminated the ground. He lit a candle and placed it on top of the grave, then took out the Urn of Osiris, which was filled with the blood of a one-year-old fawn. Then he began to speak softly.

"Osiris, keeper of the gate, master of all fate, hear me." Dipping his finger into the blood, he marked his forehead and both cheeks with it, and continued. "Before time, and after. Before knowing and nothing." He poured the contents of the urn onto the earth that covered Dean's grave. "Accept my offering, know my prayer." A hidden force jerked him backwards, and long gashes appeared on the insides of both his arms. _He would be tested, _the spell had warned. Sam had known. He wasn't about to give up now. The pain was searing and blinding, but he continued, speaking much louder now. "Osiris! Here lies the warrior of the people. Let him cross over." He winced in pain as shapes appeared beneath his skin and wriggled around his body. The shapes moved around up his chest and then toward his neck, and blood continued to pour from both of his wrists. "LET HIM CROSS OVER!" he bellowed, collapsing onto the ground and gagging as the first of the shapes burst from his mouth in hissing triumph. It was a snake. It slithered away into the woods and was soon followed by two more.

Sam lay on the cold wet grass as spasms of pain wracked his body. He coughed up blood and gagged a few times, but as the worst of it subsided, he realized that nothing had happened. Dean wasn't anywhere to be seen. He waited for another hour, but there was nothing. The spell hadn't worked.

…It didn't work. _Why didn't it work?"_ was the only question that ran through his mind as he lay in the motel bed staring up at the ceiling. Everything had been perfect. The fawn, the blood, the moon, the alignment of Mercury, the urn…The urn. Maybe the urn had malfunctioned. _Damn it!_ He punched his pillow as hard as he could, fuming. There had to be another way to bring Dean back.

Dean Winchester awoke slowly and painfully. He could feel some sort of energy pouring over his entire body, fixing his skin, making it new again, giving life to his bones. Breath returned to his body in a sudden gasp, and he choked, his eyes darting around the coffin in fear.

Sam had gone over everything. He had thought of everything except the fact that maybe he was wrong, maybe the spell did work. And without his brother there to dig him out, Dean had to claw his way out of his own coffin.


	3. Fire and Stone

Disclaimer: _Supernatural_ belongs to Kripke, and anything remotely _Buffy_-related belongs to Joss.

Author's Notes: I wrote this chapter yesterday and I just couldn't wait to put it up, so here it is! Haha. Again, enjoy, and please review.

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Chapter 3: **Fire and Stone**

Sam returned to Dean's grave the next day, weary and broken. He had dedicated the past year to figuring out a way to revive his brother, and after everything—Sam stopped. The grave was empty. At first he was convinced that he had gone to the wrong location, but there was the candle from last night, the drops of blood spilt on the ground, the freshly overturned dirt…

The coffin was empty, broken at the top. Sam stopped short and knelt down in front of the grave, bewildered. _Had the spell really worked? Or had someone dug Dean up?_

A noise sounded from a fe w feet behind Sam, and he turned around quickly to see Dean sitting against a tree. Sam's eyes widened and he stared for a few minutes until he spoke.

"Dean?" His brother looked up with sunken eyes, not saying a word. "Dean." Sam rushed to his side and knelt in front of him. "Hey. Dean?" He reached to take his brother's hands in his, but he drew back, seeing that they were covered in blood and ripped at the tips of the fingers. Sam gasped quietly. He had brought his brother back to life—exactly where they had laid him to rest. "Oh, my God," he whispered softly. "You had to claw your way out of your coffin." Blank eyes provided no response to his statement. "I'm so sorry," said Sam. "I didn't think it worked. I didn't know, I didn't know…" Still no answer from Dean, and Sam pressed his hand to Dean's chest. A steady thump-de-thump-de-thump relieved his slightly irrational fear that his brother was still dead.

Dean looked up into Sam's soft brown eyes, his cracked lips attempting to form a word.

"Sammy?" he managed to croak. A smile wider than Sam had ever smiled crossed his face, and he put his hand on his brother's cheek.

"Yeah. Dean, it's me. It's me." Dean opened his mouth again, still trying to form words.

"Is this…" he whispered, and then he looked up. "Is this Hell?"

"What?" Sam asked, confused.

"Is this Hell?" Dean repeated, eyes fixed on his brother. Sam's eyebrows creased in an anguished frown.

"No, Dean, no! It's not Hell. You're here, with me. You're back now, you're safe. Whatever happened to you there, whatever you've been through… It's over now." He forced a smile. "Hey, man, you with me?" He put his other hand on Dean's other cheek, supporting his face.

"It was so clear," Dean mumbled. "I remember. Like a shiny white light, it was there and it was so clear and I just had to go…" He trailed off and looked up, surprised he had gotten the words out. He searched for some kind of praise in Sam's eyes, but all he saw was his brother's eyes filling with tears.

"Dean, listen to me," said Sam. "We're gonna get you back to the motel, okay? And you can rest and eat and sleep and it'll be fine." Dean closed his eyes and frowned, as if experiencing some sort of inner pain, and Sam tried to will the tears not to spill over from his own eyes. "Come on, let's go."

---

Dean wasn't sleeping, for which Sam was slightly relieved. He couldn't bear to see his brother lying down with his eyes closed, not after what Sam had gone through for the past week. Dean had calmed down a little, settled back into things, but he was still slightly tense and on-edge. Sam had bandaged up his hands, given him fresh clothes, and gotten him some food, and now he was sitting on the edge of Dean's bed.

"You okay?" he asked, for what was probably the hundredth time in an hour. Dean nodded. Sam gently ran his fingers through Dean's hair, understanding of his state of confusion. "I'm right here if you need anything."

"Sammy…" Dean hadn't said anything at all since they were in the woods, and Sam started.

"Yeah?"

"Wh' happened?"

"You went to Hell, Dean. And I brought you back."

"I thought…" He struggled to get the words out. "Told you not to?"

"You were in _hell_," said Sam. "I was supposed to just let you stay there?"

"What's dead…" Dean paused. "should stay dead."

"I couldn't," were the words that came out from Sam's mouth. His hand still lingered in Dean's hair, and Dean leaned into the touch. He didn't say anything else.

---

Sam fell asleep, and he dreamt of fire and stone and he thought he heard his brother screaming as he was tortured but he felt like he was imagining it because somewhere, somehow, there was a bright light that came down and bathed him in warmth and love.

_Is this Hell?_


	4. This Is Hell

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Supernatural. A few lines are adapted or taken from the Buffy episode "After Life", as well.

**Author's Notes**: Woah, the fourth chapter already! I'm moving pretty quickly, haha. Anyway, enjoy, and please review!

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"Nothing's changed," said Dean in the morning. Sam looked up, startled.

"Changed with what?" Dean sort of gave a half-shrug, not looking at Sam.

"Everything changed for me." Sam looked down at the floor, unsure whether to bring the issue up or not. He decided to throw caution to the winds and ask.

"You…you remember what it was like?" Dean nodded.

"Every single second," he whispered. There was a wistful look in his eyes that Sam would have identified as longing, had he not known better.

"Was it horrible?" Sam asked. Dean didn't respond, and Sam realized that he had pushed it too far. "I'm sorry, if…if you don't want to talk about it." There was no answer from Dean.

"Where's Bobby?"

"He, uh, left. Because you were, you know…" Sam trailed off. Dean seemed to have no reaction his words. "He—he'll come right back, I'll call him." Dean frowned.

"What…"

"What?" asked Sam. Dean seemed to be drifting in and out of attention. He gave a little shudder and snapped out of it again.

"Oh…What, um…will you say to him?" Sam shook his head.

"I don't know."

It turned out that Sam didn't really have a need to figure out what to say to Bobby—he showed up unexpectedly at the motel a few hours later.He stopped dead upon seeing Dean, but then considering what John had done for Dean and what in turn Dean had done for Sam, he realized that he shouldn't have been surprised. The Winchesters just couldn't live without each other. Sam explained about the mystical death rule, of which Bobby was a bit skeptical, but he didn't argue. Bobby had been doing a lot of non-arguing since Dean's death. He did notice that Dean was pretty out of it, however, and he questioned Sam about this when Dean was out of the room.

"Did you screw it up?" he fired at Sam. Sam swallowed.

"No!"

"He's _broken_, Sam." Sam shook his head violently, refusing to believe that his always stable older brother was anything but strong.

"He's not broken. He's probably disoriented from being _in Hell_. I mean it's like…we don't even know how much time has passed for him! Probably years. That's just not something you get over." He paused, realizing something else. "Oh, my God. What if he never gets over it?" Bobby narrowed his eyes.

"And you think of this now."

"What are you saying? That maybe he's not right, or—or dangerous?" asked Sam, unable to hide the worry in his voice. Bobby shook his head.

"I don't know, Sam. That's something we're going to have to find out. When Dean brought you back, he was worried that you might not be a hundred percent…you. But I'm pretty sure you turned out okay."

"This was different! This was a spell, this was…" Sam collapsed onto the bed, putting his head in his hands. "I hope I didn't screw this up."

"Me too," said Bobby. But then Dean came out of the bathroom, and they stopped talking.

---

"Sam, would you excuse us? I want to talk to Dean. Alone." Sam frowned.

"No problem," he said nervously, and exited the room with a worried glance back at his brother. Once Sam was gone, Bobby sat in front of Dean on the bed.

"Are you all right?" he asked. Dean nodded.

"Doing better."

"Good. Look, Dean, if you're in pain, or if there's anything I can do for you, you just let me know, all right?" Dean looked down at his lap.

"You can't."

"Well I haven't been to hell as of late, but…"

"I was happy," interrupted Dean. Bobby looked at him in confusion.

"What?"

"Wherever I was. I was happy. At peace." Bobby continued to stare at him, shocked.

"I knew that Sammy was all right, I knew it," Dean continued. "Time…didn't mean anything, nothing had form…but I was still me, you know?" He glanced at Bobby, and then back at the ground. "And I was warm, and I was loved, and, and I was finished. Complete. I served my purpose on this earth. I don't know anything about theology or dimensions, or any of it really, but…" He looked up, tears in his eyes. "I think I was in heaven."

"Oh, my God," Bobby intoned.

"And now I'm not." Dean's voice was beginning to break, and it was becoming difficult to keep the tears at bay. "I was torn out of there. Pulled out, by my brother." He swallowed and let a single tear trickle down his cheek. "Everything here is harsh, and bright, and violent. Everything I see, everything I touch…_this_ is hell. Just getting through the next moment, and the one after that…knowing what I've lost…" He blinked, seeming to realize that Bobby was still there, and then he stood up. "He can never know, Bobby. Never."


	5. Rousing Suspicions

Disclaimer: Don't own SPN.

Author's Notes: The shortest chapter so far, but it's more of a filler. There'll probably be one or two more chapters till the end. Thanks for reading, don't forget to review!

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Chapter 5: **Rousing Suspicions**

Over the next few days, Dean grew stronger and stronger. He was able to carry on full conversations with Sam without breaking into tears, and Sam felt that things were settling back into a routine. _Routine is good. Routine is normal. It's what Dean needs. What I need._

The only issue that nagged Sam in the back of his mind was Bobby had left directly after his conversation with Dean; when Sam had returned to the motel, he was gone. When he asked Dean what they had spoken about that had made Bobby leave so quickly, Dean wouldn't respond. Sam didn't want to press the issue.

"Are you interested in a hunt?" Dean looked up from the bed where he was watching TV, surprised.

"A hunt?"

"Yeah," answered Sam. "I mean, now that things are settling back into relative normality, do you feel up to a job?" Dean shook his head violently.

"No."

"Okay, okay." Sam looked back down at the book he was leafing through but not really reading. A few silent minutes passed, and then he drew a deep breath and spoke up again. "It's just—how much longer are we going to stay here? How much longer is it gonna be until…" He trailed off. "Until you're back to normal?" Dean pressed down on the power button, flicking the TV off. He turned to face his brother.

"Sam, c'mon, man. I think I need a little more time than a few days." Sam nodded understandingly.

"Yeah. Sorry, I wasn't thinking. I mean, I did pull you out of hell, I guess you'll need time to adjust…" He noticed Dean's jaw clench visibly as his brother pressed the power button a little too hard, and the TV turned back on. He said no more words on the subject.

Sam watched TV for a while with Dean, or at least that's what he wanted him to think. In actuality, Dean watched TV and Sam watched his brother.

Dean's head was growing heavy and tired, and before he knew it he was drifting off to sleep. He lay his head down on the most comfortable thing around, which so happened to be Sam's shoulder. The TV was still blaring some obnoxiously loud action movie with more explosions and gunshots than dialogue. Sam watched it for a bit, enjoying the comfortable silence and the warm weight of Dean's head on his shoulder. He tilted his head to rest against his brother's, sending up a silent, thankful prayer that Dean wasn't awake to witness or be embarrassed by this moment.

As the credits rolled, Sam realized that he would have to get some sleep at some point during the night, so he very gently removed Dean's head from his shoulder and laid it on the pillow, pulling the covers up around his brother. "Night, Dean," he whispered.

Dean woke up in the middle of the night, his heart pounding and beads of sweat dripping down his face. Sam awoke a few seconds after, hearing his brother's heavy breathing.

"Dean, you okay?"

"Fine, Sammy."

"Yeah, 'cause you sound awesome."

"It was just a dream, Sam, go back to sleep." _Yeah, bet it was just a dream. It was just a dream like my visions were just nightmares. _Sensing that there was no point in arguing, however, Sam rolled over and attempted to fall back asleep. But Dean was asleep long before him, and for the second time that night Sam found himself just watching his brother. He could tell something was wrong. Dean seemed like he had come back okay, but there was another thing that he couldn't quite pinpoint. He had a feeling that the dark magic, the resurrection, the secret conversation with Bobby, and now these nightmares…they couldn't amount to any good at all.

_Dammit, Dean, why won't you tell me anything?_


	6. Catastrophe Nearly Averted

Disclaimer: Don't own SPN or BtVS!

Author's Notes: As a followup to the shortest chapter, I now bring you the second-longest. :) It's not done yet, however, so don't worry. But I do want to thank all of my reviewers, seriously you guys are the only reason I post this crap. xD Thank you SO much, you've really inspired me and forced me to write this, so it's awesome. This was written while I was procrastinating doing my AP European History homework and studying for chemistry. ...I should probably go do that now. Haha. Anyway, enjoy, and you know the drill about that cute little purple button. Clicketh!

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Chapter 6: **Catastrophe Nearly Averted**

"Dean." Dean was vaguely aware of someone sitting on the edge of his bed, a pressure on his arm, shaking him gently. "Dean!" Dean groaned and squirmed and finally opened his eyes.

"Dude, what the hell?" He blinked a few times but finally adjusted his vision to adminster a Death Glare to Sam. "Why'd you wake me up?" Sam's face was deadly serious, his jaw set and a fire of determination in his eyes. Noticing this, Dean lessened the intensity of his glare. "What's wrong?"

"Dean, we need to talk."

"About what?" Dean shifted to begin to pull himself up into a sitting position.

"Bobby called. He told me everything." Dean shot up immediately, so fast it almost hurt. His heart leapt into his throat, and he could feel his heart begin to pound.

"Everything…about what?" he asked cautiously, trying to mask the panic in his voice.

"Everything about this." Sam slammed a newspaper clipping onto the table next to the bed. Dean glanced over at it. "FOUR MORE BODIES FOUND UNDER MYSTERIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES" began the headline. "Bobby says it could be an angry spirit," Sam was saying. Dean sighed with relief.

"Sam…"

"No, Dean. We're taking this case. You've literally been through hell, you need something to take your mind off of it."

"That's not it, Sam!" Dean shouted. Sam frowned, and Dean immediately realized his mistake in exploding. "I mean. I don't want to take this case, all right? Please. I need a bit more time." _Catastrophe averted._

"What's not it, Dean?" _Or not. Shit._ Dean shrugged.

"I don't know. I just meant that I don't want to take the case."

"Why not?"

"Because, I don't. Now if you wanna go salt and burn some old guy's bones, go ahead. But I'm not coming with."

"I'm not going anywhere without you," Sam said. Dean shrugged again.

"Then you're staying right here."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"You know, I can't believe you, Dean," began Sam. Dean rolled his eyes. _Here we go again._ "Do you have any idea how much torture I suffered? You being dead, me bringing you back. The spell wasn't exactly a piece of cake. Yet all you do is sit here and mope around all day. I brought you back from hell, I saved you from eternal torment. I expect at least a _little_ gratitude. But all I get is this sullen silence and I'm freaking sick of it." Dean looked up.

"What do you want me to say, Sam?"

"_Anything!_ Tell me what it was like, what happened, how you're feeling. I don't care!"

"You want to know what really went on?"

"Yeah, I do. I want to know. How painful was it?"

"There was no pain," said Dean. He barely even realized what he was saying, that he had just completely ruined the secret.

"What?" Sam whispered.

"No pain, no fear, no doubt. Until…"

"Until what?" Sam leaned forward.

"Until you pulled me out of heaven." Dean looked up into the eyes of his little brother, which widened in fear.

"Of…"

"I think I was in heaven, Sammy. And now I'm not, I'm here, you brought me back, and this is hell, every second of it. I said you could never know, never…" He realized he was beginning to babble and he trailed off. He watched Sam's eyes begin to fill with tears and immediately felt a pang of guilt for telling his little brother. But the guilt that Dean felt was incomparable to the overload that Sam felt as he sat back onto the bed and stared at his brother with wide, teary eyes.

"I pulled you out…of _heaven_?" Dean bit his lip and nodded, the tears beginning to sting his own eyes. He had no idea what to say, what to do. He grabbed Sam's hand in his and squeezed it. But Sam's hand stayed limp. "I pulled you out of heaven," Sam repeated. He pulled his hand out of Dean's grasp and rested his head in his hands. "I thought…the deal said…" Dean shook his head.

"Oh God, Sammy, I'm so sorry," Dean whispered. "I shouldn't have told you." Sam's head shot up.

"You're sorry? _You're_ sorry? How do you think I feel, Dean? I thought you were in hell! I thought I was saving you…" He paused. "How could you even _think_ to keep this from me?"

"Because I didn't want this to happen, Sam! I didn't want you to feel guilty!"

"And so we'd just go on our merry way and you'd never tell me about it and I'd never know? What kind of screwed up family relationship is that? We're brothers, Dean, we tell each other things! Didn't you learn your lesson when you didn't want to tell me that I died? You must've known I'd find out eventually!"

"I was trying to protect you."

"Yeah, well, bang-up job on that."

Then there was quiet, a horrible, awkward, deathly silence that settled over the room. A tear slipped from Dean's eye and made its way down his cheek, and Sam noticed this.

"I'm so sorry," Sam whispered. Dean said nothing, just leaned forward and rested his forehead on Sam's shoulder. Sam placed his hand on the back of Dean's neck and his other arm around him. More tears escaped from Sam's eyes as he held his brother tightly. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know…I didn't know," he whispered, chanting it over and over again. Dean didn't respond to his brother's pained mantra, just buried his face into the crook of Sam's neck and let himself cry, let himself draw comfort and warmth from the embrace.

"You know, Mom was there," he said into Sam's neck after a few minutes. It came out muffled but Sam still understood. Sam pulled back a bit, but kept his firm grip on the back of Dean's neck.

"She was?" Dean nodded.

"Yeah. And Dad."

"Did they say anything to you?" Dean nodded again.

"They told me that they love me, and you, and that they're so, so proud of us." Sam smiled through the tears.

"Thanks," he whispered.

"Yeah." Dean leaned forward again but this time he rested his forehead on his brother's.

"Man, this is just so screwed up, isn't it?" Dean nodded, and Sam's head moved with him.

"Yeah, it is."


End file.
